Dragged ScorpionGirl on a 40 miler to the ocean on Saturday.
That gals got moxie and determination for only her second time on a bike.
Cool part was she made the ride back despite being half pissed up on 4 pints.

She's a keeper.

Now I have to find her the perfect frame to build up.
Maybe a cross or touring cromo frame with XT set up?

bananas are and were good.
Still had some cramping at the end of the day. Why don't I just pack my own food for these damn things?

Now I'm all jealous...

I was a lazy bastard and spent Friday night drinking with some friends and missed the early Sat. ride. We had plans for Sunday so I'm riding home from work tomorrow. 10 mi tomorrow night and then 15 mi the next morning if I feel good.

I've got to hit 35 mi or so on Sunday morning... That metric century is coming up quick.

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For me, 60 miles or so and less is FUN. When you start getting much beyond that, it turns into work. But then you finish and start thinking about when you'll do it again.

Even turning 180deg, lots and lots of times I end up with a headwind out AND back!

M

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That would be the ride Rubber Cow, myself and about 700 other people went on yesterday. Almost any direction the road went in the afternoon there was that emasculating wind. At one point I switched the bike computer to not show speed, I hated watching the number drop so.

The ride didn't go quite as planned, at least not for me...
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After waiting for a few of our team to take their turn in the port-a-potties, the ride starts at a nice mellow pace. It didn't even feel like we were at the beginning of a ride that was going to last hours and many many miles.

The group thins out, a modest pace line forms. Minutes are ticking away, we're warming up at an easy pace. Some faster riders have moved ahead. We catch up with slower riders that started earlier.

I bid a little goodbye to my friends, step out of the line and move forward. At the front is John, the coach. As I pass him, I see him drop a little lower in the bars and pull away with me. Our pace quickens. Soon it's just the two of us riding together, each taking a turn pulling - though he did more of the work.

What's that twinge? Damn bladder. I'd skipped the port-a-potties.

As we pass a man in a blue jersey, he grabs on to our tail. The three of us move ahead. The brisk, just at that point where any faster and I'd be dipping too deep into my energy reserves. His name is Ed, he's on the Department of Corrections cycling team. He's trying to catch up with friends.

The miles are sliding by at this pace. We're humming along at 21 to 24 mph, with occasional spikes. Ed takes a turn up front. He starts hammering. Our speed creeps up as my bladder is sending off all the alarms. Somewhere a fire needs to be put out.

I can't take it. I need to stop. I need to piss. I will produce the river nile. I am the headwater of the Amazon. Flow forth great river. But not quite yet. I can see a paceline ahead. Ed and John have grabbed it.

I crank it up, but too late. Catching a line is a talent. Throwing out the grappeling hooks and hauling yourself forward despite your legs. The sugar is emptying from your body. The burning builds. But if you could just grab the end...

Then I've got it. I'm at the end. But too late. The line has broken. I've grabbed a handful of people who couldn't hold on. I'm not at the end, I'm flying by the tattered remains of what had been a magnificent line.

I pull into the rest stop just after John. We'd made amazing time. I feel good. Legs feel strong. Lungs stronger. I know the speed I want and the speed I can hold.

The phone rings. Someone is down. Not our team. But some of ours are rendering aid - Tera is calling the ambulance, Jorge has his ever ready medical kit out, Mary is watching over everything. There's blood. A report that he can't move.

As clumps of riders head out, having consumed gummi bears, pretzels, nasty sports drinks (Heed? citrus vanilla flavored seawater. blech), and piles of bagels, I decide to wait and make sure everyone on our team is ok. The man that went down probably crossed wheels. Luckily, last we heard, all he had was a laceration in his forehead and a cracked rib or two.

One hour later, I'm on the road again. All the faster groups long gone.

For us old farts, looking for time, distance, speed and pace info, what do you guys recommend?

Puleeze don't say a GPS

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I've got a Cateye Astrale 8. You can find it for around $30 at places like Performance. They've got it on sale right now, here. It isn't the fanciest or the prettiest or easiest to read, but it works and at that price, it's hard to beat. It's survived both some of the worst weather the PNW has to offer and my clumsiness (including sending it bouncing down the road at 30 mph).

Went racing this AM. Went better than expected, worse than hoped. Basically, I sucked, but wasn't DFL. Not being DFL was the goal and I accomplished that!

I knew I was going slow, so I moved outta the way of pretty much anyone that wanted by. Up to and including some of the people out on the course warming up. There should be some common courtesy 'bout that... But then, on the flip side, how you gonna see what the course is like without riding on it?

Got there a little late, registered, and proceeded to 'warm up.' My warm up consisted of riding up and down the hill at the start finish a few times, then making my way onto the course for most of a lap. Managed to get in front of someone racing and got offline on a bumpy section of the course and ended up bailing out over the bars. Trail 1, Gummee! 0.

We lined up at the start line in a group of about 40. I managed to snag a spot on the front row. By the top of the hill, I was pretty well DFL. I just don't have the intensity or fitness to go all out right now. This cough/cold is still with me, so I didn't wanna push TOO hard. Up, up, up we went. Gradual but still uphill. Got to the top and guess what?! Barrier. Off the bike, turn 180 degrees and go back DOWN the hill you just came up. Did I tell y'all about the sand? 'Bout took me down most laps as my front wheel oscillated wildly then hooked back up going any direction but straight. Ugh. Didn't crash in the race tho!

Left turn, down about 10m, right turn, back UP that 10m to a telephone pole laid across the trail. Killed ALL my momentum EVERY time I got there! Bastages!

The rest of the course was flat-ish ('cept for that hill I told y'all about) and wound thru a few baseball fields. There was one runup behind the backstop of the second field that kicked my ass. Wasn't too long, but steep! Man, took about every ounce of gumption in my being to get my fat ass over that thing every time I got there. And that includes the times I was trying to stay out of the way!

As you exited the second baseball field's infield, there was a straight 'false flat' and a set of 3 barriers. Towards the end, I couldn't even manage the energy required to run over em! Pooped I was!

Whoda thunk 45 min of riding a bicycle could be SO FARGING painful?

I can't wait till next week! Woot

Coupla things I discovered

1. I didn't have enough air in the Racing Ralphs. They felt OK, but lost traction and rolled over onto their sidewalls at strange times. Maybe next time I try 45-50psi.

2. I missed my Tufos. After a bunch of years (~2-3) riding em, I've gotten used to the way they break loose, ride, etc. Changing tires the nite before the race was I'll have em re-glued by next weekend.

3. I am WAY fat and out of shape. Nuff said. Specialized lunch rides, here I come!

4. I had a few mechanical issues that I wasn't expecting. Brake rubbing the front tire and a rear pad that got sucked under the rim. Took some of the wind outta my sails.

5. Gotta leave earlier. Rushing = bad

6. Not being able to get to sleep till 0200 isn't good either, but I woke up without a problem when Stick Me came home.

7. Did I mention fat and outta shape?

Oh well. Next week the goal is to get lapped one less time. By the end of the season, the goal is to not get lapped at all and/or actually RACE someone!

M

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Way to go Gummee. I think changing out important parts of your bike the night before a race or a long ride for that matter is mandatory.

I think I got the same creepy crud you had. Riding after having that stuff is the pits. Push to hard = coughing fits.

The rest of the day becomes a blur. The next quarter, between the first and second rest stops, I ride with Jay - mr.slim, the narrowest man you might ever meet. He can climb, but to get through the next 24 miles, he stays on my rear wheel.

At the second rest stop, Erin isn't there. She's lost somewhere in the farmland. Jay and I leave together.

Then it gets hard.

The wind picks up. The wait at the first rest stop assured that there would be few chances to ride with any group. I'd hoped that Jay could take the lead, but his lean frame is only making it worse for him. He falls further and further behind. A couple times I stop and wait for him.

I'm in the drops trying to minimize the blast of wind. But I can't stay there for too long, I can't open my chest enough to breath fully. I turn off the speed display on the computer. I don't want to know that I'm only going that fast. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Just keep the legs moving. The road is turning, the wind... is still there. Another turn...the wind is still there. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Whose idea was this f-ing ride?!?

A trio catches me and starts to slip by. With a push I grab on. This is what I wanted. We hum down the road trading the front position. I look back. Jay is a speck.

A stop sign. A right turn. I'm at the rear of the group. They shoot right through. What are they doing?!?! This isn't a race track. There's real traffic on these roads and we've been warned repeatedly that the local Sheriff's office is prepared to ticket riders. I don't want to completely abandon Jay. I stop and wait as they pull ahead on the road.

This new direction, for the first time in a number of miles has us riding without any wind. Jay tells me to go ahead. I can still see that group and like an idiot, I try to catch them. I start hammering. The gap is shrinking. I push harder. I'm in the drops. I'm standing. I'm doing everything. Fuck the rest of this ride. All I want is to catch this group. My lungs are on fire. The gap is shrinking fast. They're just right there, not even a 1/4 mile ahead. C'mon, you can do it.

I've got more saddles than a golfer has putters or drivers.
Settled on Specialized body geometry saddles.
Alias on road bike and Nomad on touring bike.
Laying around are
Fizik Aliante
Terry Liberator
Terry Fly
Couple of Brooks
and several others I can't remember.
The specialized are the only ones that I have NO problem w/soft tissue numbness (can I say numb Johnson?)

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How would I select size on the Alias? How long did it seem to take to break in?

I ease off. My calves are twitching a painful twitch. Something doesn't feel right. I stop, stretch, and notice the seat has somehow slipped back in the clamp. A quick adjustment, and here comes Jay. We ride on.

Having not ridden more than 50 miles in the past four months, he's starting to struggle. We're at mile 70 and the wind has beaten him hard. A sweaty feather in the wind. We swap breathy good byes.

A pair of riders are up ahead. They must be passed. There's no reason for it. But they must be. It is my solemn duty. With energy waning, these little games keep you droning on. More miles slip by. Finally, they're there.

"I've been trying to catch you for miles."
-silence-
"How's it feel now that you have?"
-silence-
"I dunno. I'm just pedalin'."

It was a father son team, each a decade younger or older than me. They'd ridden Seattle to Portland together. Now they're riding the Peach of a Century. Next month, they've got another century planned. Each month, another ride together. As I pedal past on the first real incline of the ride, I wonder what it would be like to have a son.

We're finally in the modest hills of the route. I spot one of our hard to miss TnT jerseys (a garish purple and green) ahead. It's Marcia and her husband Fred - unstoppable modest Fred. She's come far from having her knee rebuilt more than a year ago, but the hills still punish her. He's pulling her through the ride. Unstoppable, that Fred. Jay comes by, we chat and are off.

The wind is gone. Now it's rollers. Oh, how I like rollers. I'd eaten a bit and could feel some energy returning. Riders with focused faces slide by behind me. I'm somewhere in front, the rest of the team working through their own ride somewhere on the road I've traveled. Too big a piece of me is happy to be the fastest on our mellow little team built of regular people with few if any aspirations to speed.

We're at state highway 22. Waiting patiently for a gap in the heavy traffic, I turn. The shoulder is wide and smooth. The air calm and cool in the shadows of massive trees. A brief hiccup of a dropped chain, and I'm moving faster. My legs are strong, my heart calm. I'm flying comfortably down the road.

The Specialized seat dealer should have the little gizmo they made to help em figger it out.

That or they look at you and say 'you're a 145.'

M

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knary said:

A good shop will have you sit on a piece of foam and measure the dent.

I've got the cheaper Avatar on my bike and it's been relatively comfy. As per my previous rants about specialized, I'm hunting for a different saddle.

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Gotcha. Thanks. Yeah, knary, I remember the big S mess, but I've got to find something to make my butt happy. If it means throwing some cash at them, so be it. I'll make that deal with the devil to keep my chode content.

Gotcha. Thanks. Yeah, knary, I remember the big S mess, but I've got to find something to make my butt happy. If it means throwing some cash at them, so be it. I'll make that deal with the devil to keep my chode content.

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I'm with ya. Good luck on the seat hunt. It's a pain in the ass.
(too easy)

I've got a Cateye Astrale 8. You can find it for around $30 at places like Performance. They've got it on sale right now, here. It isn't the fanciest or the prettiest or easiest to read, but it works and at that price, it's hard to beat. It's survived both some of the worst weather the PNW has to offer and my clumsiness (including sending it bouncing down the road at 30 mph).

Waited for the fog to clear and the temps to rise. Went out to buy some Fastack to glue my cross tires on for next weekend's race. That ended too soon, so I went and did the loop that the lunch ride was gonna do backwards.

Tailwind () on the warmup portion of the ride led me to believe my legs felt better'n they did...

Up Willow Springs Rd. Not too long, not too steep, but I was grinding away in my 23t cog by less than halfway. Breath coming in shuddering gasps as I inched my way up this @#$#%^#$^ fucking hill! WHY is it that I can sprint at 35-40, but can't climb a hill to save my life?

Anyway, got almost to the top and see another cyclist in front of me by about 1/4 mi. Kewl. I'll just catch him and we'll ride back to MH together...

Uh nope. Right about then I hit the steepest part of the climb and my legs almost gave out. I looked down at my computer: 7 kph. Almost faster to get off and walk! Couldn't tho. Hadta get to the top. Get to the top.... get to...

THE TOP!! Woot!

Coast, coast, coast. Turn over the big gear slowly in order to get my legs back under me, then downshift to something I can spin.

Got to the intersection at Chesbro Dam and the guy was now double + in front of me. Hmmmm he musta been hauling ass down that hill! Oh well.

Stopped and talked to a guy on a new Ninja 650 that had been riding around VEERRRRYYYYY slowly and stopping lots. Turns out he was adjusting some new bar risers. Nice guy. Doesn't post on the net tho .

One hammer session up a slight rise just to prove that yes, my legs are cooked from Sunday's race. Man does getting old suck hard or what?! Useta be recover with a 60min ride on Monday and go to the track for the Tuesday Nite Races on Tuesday (duh!) LSD Wed, then hard again on Thurs. Now I'm lucky to get one hard day in a week!